


In My Dreams

by AmaranthPrincess21



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - World War I, And by slight I mean it's there but by no means the focus, F/M, Ghost!Farlan, Slight Levi/Petra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranthPrincess21/pseuds/AmaranthPrincess21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding the body of a World War I soldier, your dreams become filled with him. But as strange occurrences take place in your home and as your thirst for knowledge about this man grows stronger, the line between dreams and reality become blurred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for DA group Reader's Inc spring contest. Their theme was "love grows in the strangest places."

Just how fucked up did today have to be? 

You sat in a police car, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as officers milled around the large field you’d been walking around in. The field was close to your house and you cut through it to make your daily trek to and from school shorter. Only today, your foot had gotten caught in a gopher hole and long story short, a lot of dirt got dislodged and after trying to dig something colorful out of the ground, you found a dead body. 

You called the cops immediately and they’d found you pacing and hyperventilating from the shock. Detective Zoe walked up to you, her notepad in her hand.

“Hey, how’re you doing [First]?” she asked, leaning against the open car door.

“I-I’m doing better. Over the initial shock, I think,” you replied weakly . “Do you know who I found yet?”

“Well, the identity discs found on the body say Farlan Church, so we’re assuming it’s a man, ” she told you. 

“‘Identity discs?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow at her.

“That’s what the British call their identity plaques. It’s been awhile since I’ve taken a military history course but the tags around his neck look British to me. He looks like he’s been there for decades and given the area’s history with The Great War I think it’s safe to say he was one of the soldiers missing at the end of the war. But we won’t really know anything until the medical examiner shows up,” she informed you. _Is that even possible? I know the area’s history well, but then trenches didn’t run through that field. This was no man’s land, he couldn’t have been a soldier. So who was he and how’d he end up here?_

“You really think he’s a World War One soldier?” you asked.

“The Western Front was near this area. Loads of soldiers were missing at the end of the war and we’ve found bodies in this area before. It doesn’t seem unlikely. The one thing I’m wondering is if there are more bodies around here. It’s not common to find one by itself.” Your stomach lurched.

“So you’re telling me I found a mass grave?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s a trench. Or a collapsed tunnel. Or maybe he was murdered and his body dumped here in no man’s land. We won’t know for a while,” she shrugged, looking at the officers milling around where you’d found the dead body.  _Farlan. He has a name,_ a small voice in your head lightly scolded you. “We’ll have the examiner look at him and depending on the situation we’ll get some archaeologists out here. You can go home now. Don’t tell anyone what I’ve told you, all right?”

“Yeah, my lips are sealed. I, uh, is it legal for you to keep me up to date on what happens? I’m curious to know what happened to Farlan,” you told her. 

“If the closest living relative he has gives consent then yes, I’ll call you and let you know what’s going on in the investigation,” Detective Zoe told you.

“Thank you, Detective.” You stood up and neatly folded the blanket, putting it back in the police car.  _God, I need some painkillers,_ you thought, clutching your pounding head.  _This is too surreal and too much to handle._

Your street was quiet as you turned onto it, quickly walking past your neighbors and up to your home. Slipping your shoes off, you left them on the porch and entered your home. 

“[First], where have you been?!” your adoptive mother Carla demanded, wasting no time in storming up to you. “I’ve been calling you for an hour and you haven’t picked up. And with the police cars out in the field I was worried something happened to you!”

“I’m fine,” you told her. “I was the one who called the police. I found a dead body.”

_“WHAT?!”_ she screeched. “You found a dead body?!”

“Yeah. The police had to talk to me about it and that’s why I couldn’t answer my phone or anything. I’m really sorry, Mom.” She sighed and pulled you into a warm hug.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Carla said. She planted a kiss on your forehead. “Now go get yourself washed up. Dinner will be soon.” You nodded and trudged up the stairs.  _I hope everything gets settled with Farlan,_ you thought, opening the door to your bedroom. You shut it and slumped onto your bed, grabbing your laptop and turning it on.  _In the meantime I guess I could look him up and see if there’s any information on him. I wanna know who this Farlan guy was._

But a search pulled up very few results. In fact, only one came up and it was a British girl’s blog.  _Figures, Mikasa’s the one with information._ You’d seen her around on the site, seeing that the two of you were interested in the history of your area. You’d talked to her a few times before but nothing in depth, mostly giving her photographs or the two of you discussing trenches. The photos loaded slowly but once they did, you were glad you went through the wait. They all looked very old, obviously scanned onto a computer and then uploaded. 

“I was going through my great-grandfather’s stuff again and I thought I’d scan these so everyone can see them,” Mikasa put in the description on top of the photo album. “He served for the Allied Forces in World War One. My great-grandma, his wife Petra, collected all of the photos of him taken and kept them safe so me and my cousins could enjoy them almost one hundred years later. But I think everyone has a right to enjoy historical photographs so these are for everyone.”  

The first few photos seemed to be pre-war, featuring a dark-haired young man with a teenage girl with light hair. “This is my great-grandparents before Great-Grandpa Levi joined the military,” Mikasa explained. “I still have some of the letters they wrote to each other during the war. They’re all very romantic.”  _That’s pretty adorable,_ you thought with a small grin.  _I’d kill to have a love like that._

You kept scrolling through the photos, reading Mikasa’s descriptions until you reached the one you’d been searching for. It showed her great-grandfather and a young man, both in a field that looked like the one near your house. Levi was smirking slightly, sitting next to a very handsome guy with light hair and a sly grin on his face. The photo looked like it was taken without the two knowing. They seemed to be deep in conversation. “This is Great-Grandpa Levi with one of his squad mates,” Mikasa wrote. “Grandma Alexandra says that Levi used to tell her stories about his best friend since birth, Farlan Church. I have a lot of photos of the two but this is my favorite. Candids are always the best for capturing character.”  _Oh shit, he was hot,_ you realized.  _Man, cut me off a slice of that. Damn._

Immediately you messaged Mikasa, thanking her for uploading the photos. You were going to ask about Farlan, but ran out of time as your mother announced that food was ready. And when Carla called people down for dinner, she meant business. There was no wasting time when it came to meals. Dinner went well, Carla telling her husband Grisha and your adopted brother Eren about you finding a dead body but luckily, they didn’t ask much about it. And you didn’t mention it to anyone the next day at school. Not that anyone asked; the news had said nothing about it and your friend count wasn’t very high. Even if someone had known, you doubted they would have known you were the one to find the body. 

The area where you’d found Farlan was cordoned off and it looked the remains had been moved.  _Well at least they got him away from the elements,_ you thought, walking as far away from the area without getting off track as possible. The last thing you wanted was to walk by the place and have someone assume you were grave robbing, or worse. 

Once you got home you greeted Carla and went up to your room to take a quick nap. But a small package on your bed stopped you in your tracks.  _Huh? It’s nowhere near my birthday,_ you thought, ripping open the simple brown wrapping paper. It was a necklace with two bright tokens on it, one a green hexagon and the other a red circle.  _What is this? And what’s written on it,_ you wondered, putting it under a lamp to better read the inscription. 

A+

516313

Church (Farlan)

FC

M

“Mom, did you put this on my bed?” you shouted as you went down the stairs, lifting up the necklace so she could see it from her spot in the kitchen. 

“Oh! A nice-looking young man came to the door and said you could have that. Apparently that poor boy you found had no descendants and he said the police thought you might like to keep it. He said he heard that you wanted to be kept up on the case and since you looked like you were the only one that cared that you should get the identity plaques.”

“Discs, they’re identity discs for English soldiers,” you corrected her absentmindedly, rubbing your thumb over the gritty edges of discs. “That’s really weird, though. I figured they’d keep them or donate them to a museum, or something.”

“Maybe the officer thought they should go to a person and not a museum,” Carla shrugged. “He didn’t say much. He just said he hoped you liked it.”

“I . . . I like it. I just don’t understand why they’d give me his identity discs. Next thing you know they’ll be giving me his boots.” You chuckled slightly. _I’d rather not have his boots. God knows what horrible things it’s been in, knowing how horrific the trenches were._ You shuddered as you walked back up to your room. You logged into your blog and the message alert popped up. _It’s from Mikasa? That was fast, considering she’s never online._ Opening your inbox, you read the private reply she’d sent you.

  
  


There’s no need to thank me. I think everyone should enjoy these photos. I love history and it’s an important subject. Everyone should be able to enjoy historic things. 

  
  


You got to Mikasa’s blog and opened the new message page, typing in a reply.

  
  


I agree completely. History is very important and especially in my area. If I’m right, wasn’t that one candid of your great-grandfather and Farlan taken right behind the field I live near? 

  
  


Her reply was almost instantaneous. 

  
  


Farlan? Are you related to him? Because my family and I have his things. The army couldn’t find relatives so they let Great-Grandpa Levi have his things. Closest thing to family, the letter said. If you want I could mail it to you. 

  
  


I’m not related to him. I’ve just heard the name before. I do own his identity discs, though. I guess he’s just an interest to me since I own his old necklace and I can’t find any mention of him anywhere outside of your blog, actually.

  
  


Oh, all right. That’s kind of a relief to know. My family and I have been searching for Farlan’s family to give them his stuff ever since Great-Grandpa Levi passed away. He was so protective over that box. You can’t even imagine. But we never tracked down any relatives so we just kept the box. There’s not a lot in it. A very old jacket, an afghan, a hat, a few journals. If you’re ever in London you’re more than welcome to stop by our house and take a look at his stuff.

  
  


I’d love that! I don’t know when I would be going to London next, though. But if I do I’ll definitely contact you!

  
  


The building you were in had tall ceilings. Benches were pushed to the walls, leaving the beautiful stone floor bare. A few tables with punch bowls and tables lined one of the walls and stood in front of beautiful stained glass windows. The place exuded an atmosphere that made you suspect it was a church, but you’d never seen a church like this before. A small band played lively music and couples were dancing in the center of the room, smiles on their faces and their giggles embellishing the music.

“Care to dance?” a deep, pleasant voice asked. A very handsome man stood in front of you, pushing some of his blond hair out of his electric blue eyes.  _Farlan? Why the hell am I dreaming about him? Man, the subconscious works in weird ways,_ you thought.  _I mean he’s hot, but he’s kind of dead._

“What are you doing here? What am  I doing here?” you asked, ignoring his question. He laughed.

“I’d assume you’re here to dance,” he grinned. 

“I-I guess. But where am I, exactly?” you asked, drinking in your surroundings. “Are we in a church?”

“You’re observant,” he deadpanned. You gave him a dark look and he chuckled. There was something about that boy’s laugh and grin that made your knees weak. “I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Farlan.”

“I’m [First],” you told him. 

“I like that name,” he said. “It suits you.”

“I should hope so. I’m stuck with it, aren’t I?” He laughed.

“Yeah, I guess you are. But how about that dance?” He offered his hand to you, a hopeful smile on his face.  _It’s not like this’ll hurt anybody, so why not?_

“I’d love to.” You put your hand in his and he pulled you onto the dance floor. A sultry tango as smooth as butter glided through the air. Warmth rose to your skin as your bodies pressed together in a strange intimacy. You didn’t know him and yet here you were, dancing with him with your bodies sandwiched together.  _I must be sexually frustrated. Romantically and sexually frustrated. That’s got to be it._

“So, I’m guessing that you don’t come here often?” he asked. Chuckling, you nodded.

“Yeah, I don’t. I’ve never been here before,” you told him. “It’s nice here.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” he asked, looking around the church. “To be honest I don’t come here much either unless a dance is going on.”

“Not religious?” 

“Not really.” He shrugged. “It’s not really my cup of tea. I think if there’s a God He’s not doing a very good job of watching over us.”

“Isn’t that the thing though? That the reason God isn’t doing anything because then we lose free will, or something?” you wondered. 

“I thought that was just a John Milton thing.” He scratched his head, eyes flitting up to the ceiling as he thought. The tip of his tongue poked out between his lips as he got lost in his mind.  _That’s really fucking cute,_ you realized, trying to fight back a grin. The slow slowed into nothingness, leaving only the sounds of conversation and the echoes of hard soles on the wood floor. 

“Would you like dance some more?” he asked.  _Well, this dream is nice and I’d rather not go to something different. I don’t see why I shouldn’t dream about dancing the night away with a cute guy._

“Sure,” you replied with a smile.

  
  


Farlan’s voice and tango music echoed in your ears as someone shook your shoulder. You bolted upright in bed, knocking heads with someone.

“Ow!” Eren exclaimed, clutching his head. 

“Sorry,” you said weakly, a throbbing pain pulsing in your head. 

“I guess it’s my fault. I should’ve stood farther away from you,” he groaned. “It’s almost time to leave for school.” Your eyes flitted to your clock.  _Ah, hell._

“Shit,” you murmured. You jumped out of bed and went to your dresser, pulling out clothes. Eren turned his back as you changed. 

“How come you slept in? Did you forget to set your alarm?” he asked.

“I guess I must have. I was up late messaging my friend Mikasa and it must’ve slipped my mind to set my alarm clock,” you stated as you pulled on a pair of pants. Farlan’s identity discs sat on your dresser next to a pile of books and some of your toiletries.  _I really need to figure out what I’m going to do with those,_ you realized as you put on deodorant.  _Maybe I’ll put them in a shadow box and hang them. That would look nice._ You pulled the last of your clothes on and grabbed your backpack, heading for the door. A loud crash reverberated through your room, making you shriek and drop your bag.  _Holy shit what was that?!_ A few books and your piggy bank had fallen off of your dresser.

“[First], are you okay?” Eren demanded, shock on his face.

“Y-yeah, just a little freaked,” you replied. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your body slightly shuddered as you tried to calm yourself down. “God, that scared me.”

“Well at least you’re okay. I thought you fell or something.” 

“Let me clean this up and then we can head to university. I don’t want to leave a mess,” you told him. You went to the clutter and got your things off of the ground.  _How could this have happened? I don’t think we had an earthquake and it didn’t look like anything was hanging off of the side precariously._ You put everything back on your dresser. Farlan’s identity discs hadn’t been moved at all in the scuffle, thank God. Who knew how fragile they were.  _Although, they were built to withstand battle. They’re probably pretty sturdy,_ you mused, grasping the string the tokens hung off of. You thought back to your dream and the conversation you had with Mikasa earlier that evening.  _Do I really want to wait until the next big family trip to get some information? I’m so close to getting to know about him. I can’t let this opportunity slip away._

“Hey, Eren?” you asked as you slipped the necklace on. “Do you wanna go to London this weekend?” 

  
  


Mikasa Ackerman was a very muscular and very cute girl. She was dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans when you and Eren arrived at her house. You shook her hand firmly before pulling her into a big hug. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mikasa. I can’t thank you enough for this,” you told her sincerely as she shook Eren’s hand.

“Don’t mention it. I just like getting to talk to people that love history like me,” she said, a small grin on her face. She’d already brought a few boxes of stuff out into the parlor, all of the boxes sitting snugly on the coffee table. 

“Whoa, is this a World War Two military jacket?” Eren asked, pointing to a jacket hanging in a shadowbox on a wall. 

“Yes. My great-grandfather served in both of the world wars. That was his,” Mikasa told him. “He was severely injured during World War Two so after that he retired to get some rest and to spend more time with my Great-Grandma Petra and their kids.” She took out a photo album. “They got married as soon as he came home from serving in France during the first World War.” The first page had a very formal picture of Levi and Petra, both in wedding garb and looking absolutely elated. On the next page there was a candid of the two dancing, still looking incredibly happy.  _God, I wish I could find someone that makes me smile like that._ Mikasa’s dark grey eyes flitted over to yours, a mischievous spark in them. “Apparently that soldier you like so much taught Levi how to dance. I think I have a photo of that somewhere,” she added rather curiously, flipping through the album. Your stomach sank to the floor.  _What? What do you mean, he learned how to dance from Farlan? I-I . . . That’s one hell of a coincidence. If it’s one._ Eren laughed as Mikasa opened up to the page. The boys had just realized they were being photographed. Levi was flipping the photographer off while Farlan was laughing. You chuckled, but uneasiness at your stomach.  _That looks like the tango._

Mikasa pulled out a few old journals out of the box, gingerly placing them in your hands. “I’m still reading Levi’s journals so I haven’t gotten to Farlan’s yet, but here they are. If you like, you can borrow them.”

“I’d really like that. Thank you so much,” you replied. “So, what was your great-grandfather’s experience in World War One? What battles was he in?” 

  
  


The weekend had been full of history and whimsy as you spent the weekend in London with Mikasa and Eren. You had lost count of how many museums and attractions you’d visited while there, but one thing was for sure: you were dead exhausted when you returned home to France. 

“How was the trip?” Carla asked as she picked up you and Eren from the bus station.

“It was great. I’m tired, but it was great,” Eren told her as you dug through your bag for your phone. Mikasa had asked you to text her when you got home. 

“Yeah. We went to a lot of museums, did a few ghost tours, went on the London Eye and Eren cried, we -”

_“[FIRST]!”_ Eren yelled, betrayal darkening his vibrant green eyes. Chuckling filled the car, much to his chagrin. But luckily you were close enough to your home that the laughing didn’t last long. Grisha was at work so his greeting would have to wait. It worked to your advantage; you wanted to start reading the journals Mikasa had lent you and didn’t want to stop, sit down with your father, and tell him every single detail of your trip. 

Your room was a little chilly but then again you hadn’t lived in it for a few days, so that was to be expected. A slightly sweet smell accompanied the cool air. A simple glass vase that Carla usually had in the living room was on your desk, filled to the brim with freshly picked bright flowers. A few roses, some daisies, a hydrangea or two; all flowers that Carla grew in her garden.  _How thoughtful. That was really sweet of Mom to do._ Carla walked by your doorway, peering into your room.

“Oh, those are gorgeous! I didn’t see you carry those in,” she commented.  _Wait, what?_

“Wait, you didn’t put these here?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t,” she shook her head. 

“I didn’t bring them in either,” you said. “I thought you did.”

“Huh. Grisha must’ve done it before he left for work. I was out for an hour before I picked you two up, but he was still home,” she shrugged. You copied her.

“It must’ve been him. I don’t see someone breaking in here just to leave me flowers,” you said. “I’ll have to thank Dad when he gets home.”

“You should. They’re very pretty,” she said. “Dinner will be ready in an hour or two, so don’t spoil your appetite with snacks.”

“All right. Thanks, Mom.”  _ How come Dad put these in my room, though, _ you wondered as Carla left.  _It’s not like it’s a special occasion. Eren and I were only gone two days._

  
  


“How did you like the flowers?” Farlan asked as the two of you sat on a bench, drinking punch and watching the dancers twirl around the room. Once again you were at a dance in the church. 

“That was you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Of course it was me,” he said, frowning. “I thought it’d be something nice to come home to.”

“No, it was really nice. They were lovely flowers,” you reassured him.  _ God, one  unexplainable event and I’m trying to justify it in my dreams? I need to get out more, you internally sighed.  But the thought of Farlan doing it is a lot more comforting than some creep breaking into my room and doing it. Not to mention I really like the idea of getting flowers from him. _

“Great! I’m glad you liked them,” he grinned. The band finished their lazy waltz and a lively foxtrot started. You glanced over to Farlan, his blue eyes catching yours. “You ready to get back on the dance floor?” 

“I’m more than ready.” Flashing him a large smile, you grabbed his hands and hauled him to his feet. The rush to the dance floor may have been excessive for most people, but you didn’t see it like that. Not when you loved dancing with him and not when the best feeling in the world was his hand on your waist and his other one holding yours.

  
  


Like all bouquets, the flowers eventually died and had to be thrown out. It was a shame, too; they really did add a nice pop of color to your bedroom.  _I guess I could always get flowers from Mom’s garden,_ you mused as you lied in bed, reading Farlan’s journals.  _But it is really nice to just come home to them. It was kind of Farlan to do that for me._

_ It wasn’t him, _ the logical part of you said harshly.  _That’s impossible. He’s dead, and last time I checked dead people can’t get up and go get flowers. No, probably it was you who put them in there and you forgot about it. Or it was Eren’s friend Reiner, you know he does stuff like that._

_ Then why hasn’t Reiner texted me and asked how the flowers were, _ you retorted.

_ He’s a part of twelve volunteer groups. He doesn’t have time to breathe. But it makes more sense for him to do it than some dead soldier that you’ve developed a weird-ass crush for. _

_ Well, I can’t deny the crush is weird. But I still don’t think it’s Reiner and arguing with myself isn’t going to get me anywhere. _ You skimmed the journal in search of where you left off and continued reading. 

  
  


14 January 1917

Our squad is down one person for God knows how long. Sayram has trench foot and he’s in the infirmary. We don’t know if he’s going to make it or not. He’s still pretty pale and although the bleeding stopped doctors aren’t sure if he’s got an infection or not.

One the other hand, Levi’s getting impatient to go back home. He misses Petra and he doesn’t like fighting. I don’t blame him. If I had a girl back home I’d be itching to get home sooner. Not that I’m not wanting to go home. I thought the slums of London were bad but nothing is as hellish as a trench. I never thought I’d rather go back to living in poverty than be a soldier. I just have to keep my eyes on the prize. Once this ordeal is over, I’ll go back to England and I’ll have some money. I’ll be able to get out the gutter. This place is fucking awful, but it’s going to get me somewhere better. 

  
  


Something fell out of the journal as you turned the page. A photograph landed on your lap. It didn’t look like one Mikasa had shown you.  _Huh. I guess Farlan must have stashed this in here,_ you thought. The picture was very old and somewhat faded, but you could still make out Farlan and Levi sitting together. By the way the two were posing you could tell they knew they were being photographed. Levi looked slightly less angry than he did in the candids Mikasa had shown you and Farlan still wore that gorgeous grin, one that made the corners of your lips turn up in a smile of its own.

_I’m sure Mikasa wouldn’t mind if I made a copy of this,_ you thought. Pushing back the covers of your bed you went over to your printer and made a photocopy. While it printed you kept reading.

  
  


20 January 1917

Currently nothing’s going on and we’re taking a break from doing nothing (because that makes perfect sense) so I thought I’d write while I can. There have been no advancements at all this week. That’s a surprise, I know. It’s just like the week before that and the week after that. The rumour is that other groups are really making progress but I don’t understand how we aren’t. We’ve been sitting in shit and mud for the past few weeks. How are our comrades making progress but we aren’t? War never made sense to me in the first place. I still don’t understand it and I’m a soldier.

  
  


You chuckled slightly and put the journal down to get your paper and picture out of your printer. Surprisingly, the copy came out pretty well.  _I’ll cut and frame this tomorrow._ Putting the copy on your dresser you got back on your bed, pushing the covers to the foot of the bed as you laid down and continued reading Farlan’s journal.

  
  


Some people would have gotten tired of having the same dream every night, but you didn’t. You realized that dreaming about dancing with Farlan probably wasn’t healthy, as was your budding crush, but it didn’t hurt anyone, so what was the problem? The music was loud and exuberant, the perfect background for lively dancing.  _He would’ve made a great swing dancer,_ you thought as he picked you up and spun you around. You weren’t entirely sure what dance style the two of you were doing right now but whatever it was, he was incredible at it. Your heart was pounding almost painfully in your chest as the two of you moved, moving faster and faster and the beat picked up. And then finally the song came to an end. You shrieked in delight as he dipped you suddenly. Your screech turned into giggles as you looked back up at him.

“I swear, you’re going to kill me one day by dropping me, or something,” you laughed as he helped you back up.  _Shit, it’s hot in here._

“I’d never drop you,” he said, a mock hurt expression on his face. “How could you say that?”

“Because accidents happen,” you smirked, fanning yourself. “I’m gonna go outside and get some fresh air.”

“I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind. It’s gotten really stuffy in here,” he replied, looking around the church in some disgust. The gardens outside were simple. Just a few rose bushes and some benches. Nothing fancy and nothing extravagant. Part of you was surprised you could even get back here. You’d think the church would lock away any place where people could come and Biblically know each other. A delicious cool feeling seeped into your skin as you sat down on a stone bench, looking up at the night stars. The sounds of the bustling city were faint and distant like the few stars that were out. Everything felt so removed from what was normal, from what you knew. But in this quiet moment of peace and serenity, you knew you wouldn’t give this up for the world.

Farlan sat down beside you, looking up at the night sky as well, a hint of sadness on his face. Perhaps he wanted more stars to be out. You knew you wanted there to be.

“This question is probably really late, but Farlan, where are we?” you asked.

“We’re at a church,” he deadpanned. You rolled your eyes and elbowed him.

“No, I mean what city and country are we in? This doesn’t look like any place I’ve ever been to before,” you said.

“We’re on the outskirts of London,” he replied. “I don’t recall the church’s name, but I do know we're just outside of London.” 

“Oh, okay.” _Aren’t you only supposed to be able to dream about places you’ve been before,_ you thought. I _’ve never been to the outskirts of London. But I can’t be awake. That’s impossible. Maybe I’ve got it wrong. I mean, if you can have_ Alice in Wonderland _-like dreams, surely you can dream of new places._ “It’s really nice out right now.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he said, leaning back to get a better view of the vast night sky. His hand stretched out and brushed against yours.  _Man, his skin is soft,_ you realized. Farlan withdrew his hand slowly, like he didn’t mind touching you but only moved to be polite. 

“Sorry,” he said.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” you said, trying to turn away and hide the blush blooming on your face. But his attentive blue eyes noticed and he doubled over, he was laughing so hard.

“Don’t tell me you’re blushing!” he said, trying to turn you back towards him to get a better look. 

“Shut up, Church,” you retorted but his laughter didn’t cease. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in closer to his lean, warm body. 

“I bet you I could make that blush five times worse,” Farlan drawled, his face leaning in towards yours. You could feel the heat radiate off of his skin. The soft skin of his lips gently brushed against yours before taking your lips. It was a simple kiss, warm and light like stardust. Your blood ignited into a fierce but yet comfortable fire; it felt like fireworks exploding in your body. The kiss was brief; as soon as he’d made his mark he pulled back.  _What, no! I wasn’t done with you yet!_

“You only made it three times worse. I guess you’re just going to have to keep at it until you reach your goal,” you told him. He laughed and placed a wet kiss on your neck.

“That can be arranged.” 

  


  
  


The sound of incessant knocking on your door pulled you out of your sweet dreams. Farlan’s journal was next to your pillow and your blankets had been pulled up to keep you warm. You swung your legs out of bed and got up to answer the door. Carla stood in the doorway, concern written on her face.

“There’s a detective here to see you, sweetie,” she said quietly.  _Detective Zoe is here? It’s been three months since I saw her last. I was thinking I’d never hear back from her._

“But it’s so early,” you yawned, grabbing your robe. 

“I know, but she said she was on her way to work and wanted to talk to you before she had to head in,” Carla explained. You slowly nodded.

“All right.” You put some slippers on and followed Carla downstairs. Detective Zoe sat in an armchair, hands folded in her lap.

“Good morning, madame,” you greeted her, shaking her hand. 

“Good morning, [First]. I’m sorry for coming in so early, but I wanted to let know we’ve closed the case on the soldier you found,” she told you. She pulled out a photo copy and handed it to you. “We were right on his name and occupation. He was Farlan Church, Londoner, twenty-five at the time of his death. Served as a soldier during the Great War. He was stationed not too far from here. His squad went on a mission and no one ever saw him again. He was declared MIA but now that we found him, we can declare him killed in combat.”

“How’d he die?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. Detective Zoe sighed.

“He was partially crushed by a tank. I guess either time buried him or the enemy buried him. We’re still having a historian look into those records and figure it out. But the case is basically closed. I’ve talked to some people in London and we’ll be burying Farlan here in town. His funeral will be on the twenty-first at noon. It’s being held in the local cemetery. If you’d like to come, you’re more than welcome to.” Hearing Detective Zoe talk about a funeral seemed to jolt your senses. Seeing him every night in your dreams made him seem so real, so _alive._ And to be brought to the reality that he was dead felt like a hard punch to the gut. 

“Did his family okay it already?” you asked.

“No family. He was an only child, when his parents were long dead. We’d be the only ones attending the funeral besides military personnel.” 

“Would it . . . one of Farlan’s friends made it out of the war alive and I’m friends with his great-granddaughter. Would it be all right if I brought her with me?”

“Of course. I’ll see you two there, then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  
  


Warm sunlight poured onto the earth as you stood at Farlan’s funeral. It was a small affair in a cemetery not too far from your house. At least you’d be able to visit his grave every so often. A few soldiers, Mikasa, Eren, and Detective Zoe were the only ones attending the funeral. It was a very formal affair, with the playing of “The Last Post” and the soldiers doing lots of salutes and folding the flag. You were fighting back tears the whole time. True, you had never met him but after finding his body, reading his journals, and dreaming about him you felt like you knew him. Watching the ceremony filled you with an emptiness like saying goodbye to a long-lost friend. To a lover. 

You stayed to watch the coffin get interred, stayed to watch the soldiers leave, stayed there just blankly staring at Farlan’s tombstone. Your mind was a swirl of thoughts, recalling the ceremony, finding his body, snippets of his journal entries, all interspersed with dreams of him dancing with you. With the funeral came an air of finality that tore at your heart. You doubted you would dream of him again, but God, did you hope you were wrong. Mikasa’s hand gently squeezed your shoulder, drawing you back into the real world. 

“It’s getting late,” she said. “The cemetery will close soon.” You nodded slowly.

“Yeah, we should go back to our house,” you said, glancing at Eren. 

The rest of the night went well. Dinner was delicious, the three of your played video games, and finally it was time for bed.  _I pray to God I’ll dream about him again,_ you thought as you got into bed with Mikasa. She turned out the lights and murmured a good night. You stared at the ceiling.  _Why do I feel so bad? He got a proper burial. I didn’t know him. I shouldn’t feel like crap. I didn’t really know him at all, right? All I had were dreams of him. That’s all they could possibly be. Dreams._

Time passed slowly as you lied in bed, sleep evading your grasp and your throat burning as you fought back tears. You’d nearly fallen asleep when you heard a soft kind of music floating into your room from downstairs.  _What? Why is Mom or Dad playing music so late?_ Careful not to disturb Mikasa, you got out of bed and crept downstairs. The music was lively but scratchy with age and low quality. Someone must have turned on the old record player. And indeed, that’s what it ended being, playing one of Mikasa’s great-grandfather’s old records that she had brought to France with her. Your heart stopped dead when you saw the figure standing next it, slowly swaying to the music.

Farlan looked exactly like he did in your dreams. A messy mop of blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, a cunning grin. You’d think he would have an opaque quality to him like ghosts supposedly did, but he was as solid as you were.  _What? How . . . How is he here? Am I dreaming?_ He perked up, sensing your presence. The smile on his face was positively radiant.

“There you are!” he said quietly, crossing the room. Your feet moved of their own accord, meeting him halfway. It felt like your mind was going at the speed of light. He reached and grabbed your hands. He felt warm, just like he did in your dreams. “I was thinking you’d never come down here.”

“Farlan?” you asked, unable of what to do. Or even what to  say.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said softly. You embraced him, burying your face in his chest. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done, [First]. Because of you, I get to move on.”

“‘Move on.’” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement of disbelief. You didn’t want to let him go. Not after all the wonderful times you had with him. He leaned back enough to be able to look you in the eyes.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this. And now that I’ve gotten a proper burial, I can. But there’s one last thing I want to before I move on.” He jerked his head towards the record player and a large smile graced his pink lips. “I want to dance with you one last time.” 

“Of course,” you told him. And like you two had done so many times before, he took you in his arms and you started dancing. The music was soft and slow, the grainy quality of the record not bothering you in the slightest as the singer crooned about lost love. It seemed very appropriate. Your arms were wrapped around each other tight as you slowly danced to the music. Painful dryness ripped through your throat as you bit back tears. 

This was the last time you’d see him. You tried to soak everything in, from the odd warmth of his body to the way he held you tightly as if you’d slip through his arms if he wasn’t so tight. He mumbled along with the song, his voice low and quiet so not to disturb anyone in the house. You knew he couldn’t stay. That would be unfair to him. But you weren’t ready to let him go. This wasn’t a typical way of finding love, you knew that, but now that you had something you’d be willing to die for, you didn’t want to let it slip through your fingers. He was made for you and you were made for him.

_No! I wasn’t ready to stop!_ you thought angrily as the song faded out and you and Farlan came to a stop. He didn’t let go and neither did you. You both stood there, enjoying the last fleeting moments of your intimacy.  _I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready._

“I-I’m going to see you again, right?” you asked, looking up at him. 

“Eventually. You still have a long life to live. Promise me you aren’t going to cut your life short just to see me again,” he said.

“I promise.” The edges of his pink lips twitched into a split-second grin. He leaned down and gave you a deep and loving, although brief, kiss. 

“I love you,” he sweetly murmured.

And then he was gone. 

  



End file.
